


Golden Heart, Silver Tongue.

by Patronoftheravens



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Fantasy AU, M/M, RvB Big Bang, check the notes, fluffy stuff, that's all it is banter and fluff, you should check out the artist's piece that goes in conjunction with this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-22
Updated: 2017-02-22
Packaged: 2018-09-26 04:13:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9861974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Patronoftheravens/pseuds/Patronoftheravens
Summary: York is a street thief, North is a knight. They develop a bit more than an unwitting friendship and it turns out that prison breakouts and the journey following are a great way to build a romantic relationship.





	

**Author's Note:**

> go check out tealdragon on tumblr for their companion art piece! Here's the link! http://tealdragon.tumblr.com/post/157551259974/hey-heres-my-piece-for-the-rvb-big-bang

York was a street thief, simple as that. He didn’t belong to any guild, didn’t follow any rules but his own, a simple life for him. The beginning of fall was very important. Not because it was beautiful or the leaves were changing colors or certain vegetables were in season, no not at all. It was because of the tourney. The annual tournament held in the massive fields outside of the walls. Now, York loved the tournament, and not just because of the knights. The tournament drew hordes of people, and hordes of people meant many, many pockets to pick, and one hell of a living to be made. Right now, he was in said horde of people, fingers dipping into pockets and deftly fishing out the valuables within. He grinned as he slipped a gold bracelet off of an elderly noble and whistled as he pulled a heavy coin purse from a belt. This was his living. All of the city's pompous nobles were his inexhaustible income. As long as the money was in circulation and he was alive, he could make a living. Thieving was all fine and good, but there was a tournament going on for fuck's sake! He'd be damned if he didn't see at least one event. Today was archery. While it wasn't the most exciting thing he could have seen, it was still impressive how well some of these petty nobles' sons could shoot. Meandering over to the archery range, he took a seat on the highest stand, maybe picking a few pockets. The stands slowly filled up, people from all walks of life lining up to see their heroic knights perform great feats or whatever. A trumpet blast signaled the start of the tourney and the knight's lines up in their polished armor and multicolored banners.  
"Lords and Ladies," began the crier, "we welcome you to the annual Grand Tourney!" He grinned a saccharine grin. "Our first event will be the archery challenge!" He bowed low, arm sweeping back to acknowledge the targets behind him. "One contestant will hit the red targets the other, the blue. Our first contestants will be..." he trailed off unrolling the scroll he had, "Lord Gerald Throndsen of the southern reaches of Reisold against Lord Jason Artemiy, born of the North, the mountains in his blood!" At this, the crowd began chanting the word 'North', at a fervent pace. The knight with the crest of purple, a green bear rampant upon it took a bow, removing his green and purple-plumed helmet and resting it on his chest. York's jaw hit the ground. Damn, he looked good. Strong jawline, short fluffy blond hair, and clear blue eyes. He was gorgeous. As he unshouldered his bow, York tried to imagine what sort of muscles lie under that armor. His question was answered as soon as the horn blew signaling the start of the first round. Jason, or North, drew an arrow back to his cheek and let it loose. This motion continued in a rapid succession and York marveled at how elegant Jason made the motion seem, hitting his target every single time. He blew past his contender while York wanted to peel that armor off. He shook his head to snap out of it, hoping that the knight didn't notice his staring. Much to his chagrin, North looked up and met his eyes. That wasn't it, oh no, he couldn't be just hot and talented. His cheeks turned red and he offered a bashful smile. He just had to be cute too. York couldn't believe what he was doing as he exited the bleachers and bought a white rose from a nearby vendor. The crier explained how the rest of the tourney would proceed. York didn’t care what he had to say. Sure, his chances with North, an honest to god knight, were really pretty damn slim. He found North outside of the tourney, handing his bow and helm off to his squire.  
"Hey there," smiled York-really it was more like a smirk- and tucked the rose behind his back, "nice shooting there."  
"Oh, thank you." North smiled, pulling his gauntlets off, "I used to go hunting with my father when he was still alive."  
Okay, thought York, don't bring up the dead dad. "Good experience huh?"  
"Yeah."  
Shit, this conversation isn't going well. Time to put on the charm.  
He pulled the rose from behind his back and handed it to North with a sweet smile.  
"Congratulations on your win, I got you something." He let his voice take on a soft syrupy nature, trying to be smooth. God, it'd been a while since he seduced anyone.  
North took the flower, a light pink dusting his cheeks. Ho-ly shit. He's adorable.  
"Thank you. It's beautiful. You know, where I'm from we don't have white roses."  
"How about when you're out of armor, we take a stroll through the royal gardens?"  
North's eyebrows arched up, "Isn't that..."  
"Mildly dubious to the law?" York grinned, "Oh, maybe a little."  
North’s eyes drifted down then snap back up. “What time?”  
“Meet me near the gardens when the clock chimes eleven. I’ll be there. You can count on it.” York winked a blew a kiss as he left. 

North leaned against the wall of the palace gardens now in more casual clothes. He smiled amiably at a handmaiden from the palace as she passed with a handful of towels. The capital wasn’t the worst place he’d been and it wasn’t terrible either. He just preferred the countryside of his northern home to the bustling city. The clock in the center of town began to chime. On the eleventh toll, he heard a familiar voice.  
“Hey there, told you I’d be here.” The other man smiled at him, seemingly appearing out of nowhere. He was dressed in some finer clothes, a silk-lined cloak, some gold trim. Was he trying to impress the knight? North shook his head at the thought. No, no. That was preposterous. He was some lowly peasant’s son that had saved the life of the queen herself (by accident) with a well-placed arrow and here he was, a knight of the realm as it were. However, he did get a rose from him. That was a little more than the gamblers’ cheers at the archery competition today. That’s all he was, an easy bet nothing more. Needed some quick coin? Bet on Jason Artemiy at the archery grounds. That’ll get you your coin. Maybe this man didn’t know about his past? That was also preposterous. The way he dressed showed that he was of some import. He had to have known about the incident that made him who he is today. He flashed a smile at the man, the stranger who’d popped into his life unbidden.  
“Well, it’s good to see you. For a moment, I thought that you wouldn’t show.” North extended a hand, “We weren’t introduced formally. I’m Jason Artemiy, but most just call me North.”  
The stranger took the hand, “And I’m Alex Therin but most call me York.”  
“That’s an odd name.”  
“What, Alex or York?”  
“York, Mind if I ask how you got it?”  
“Oh,” he gives a sheepish smile, “I used to be in the military and I had a sergeant who couldn’t remember anyone’s names so he called me York and it sorta stuck.”  
“That’s better than me,” mumbles North.  
“Well, how’d you get North?” York quirks an eyebrow.  
“I’m the only knight of this realm from the northern woodlands and no one down here can pronounce Artemiy so I’m stuck with ‘Sir North’ for a name.” He shrugs, “Nothing too fancy you know.”  
“So unlike the nobles,” scoffs York.  
“Yeah, they normally take so much time to learn your titles, suppose that’s only if you’re from their land and not some foreign far off place behind the mountains.” He sighs, “It’s good to see someone who’s different than that.”  
“Land and titles are petty things.” York looks up at the wall, thinking of how to climb it, and if he could pull North over it. He could scale it himself no problem, but the question became could he do it with North. Well, he could also just pick the lock on the gate but that would take too long.  
“You know,” began North, “I can climb that just fine. There’s plenty of hand and footholds.”  
“I thought you might, I just didn’t want you to hurt that pretty face of yours.”  
North’s cheeks turned pink. “How chivalrous of you, and I’m the knight here.”  
“Ironic that you’re breaking into the palace grounds then.” York gave a mock salute and started clambering up the wall. He made short work of it, sitting on the edge. “You care to demonstrate those climbing skills, or do you think you might want some help?” He was poking fun at him, but really, he was slightly concerned for the other’s safety.  
“I’ll be fine,” he began picking his way up the wall, sitting next to York.  
“Well, how’s the view? I’d offer to get you a better one, but,” He glances to the church spire, the highest point, “I think an angry god might strike me down.”  
North holds back a laugh. He was kind of cute with that little roguish smirk and charming wit.  
“What about the gardens themselves?”  
“Oh,” York hops off the wall and beckons North to follow. “They’re just beautiful at night.”  
They walk for only a few moments in silence before they’re on the path leading through the gardens. York knows the way just fine, call it illegal climbing all you want but it did make a great place to take the cute knight you dragged along with you.  
“And here we see the magnificent lotus blooms,” he gestured dramatically into the burbling stream when they were halfway over a bridge. “The queen likes to keep them just so and her alchemists make sure they always bloom in the fullest.” He shrugs, “Or, that’s what they told me when I visited.”  
“They’re lovely,” smiled North.  
“Wait til we get to the orchards.” he says, crossing over the bridge, “They’re the main attraction.”  
They make small talk as they continue through the gardens, York stopping and giving a little history about something in the garden.  
“This statue here was to commemorate the duke who gifted the yellow roses to our queen,” he swept into a bow at the mention of the queen, “this was the same duke who was caught getting a bit friendly with the queen’s handmaiden on this very bench.”  
North let out a little chuckle, “How do you know this?” He regretted asking. Clearly, this man was a noble and had visited the gardens often.  
“Oh, well, I used to work for the queen and, well, we had a bit of a disagreement after she found out I- oh look!” He stopped mid-sentence, rather intentionally, “there’s the orchard. The queen takes great pride in the fruit from these trees.” He put on a mock haughty air as he made the statement.  
North wondered what they had disagreed on. York explained everything about the trees, even going so far as to offer North an apple. He declined but took it back once he realized that he was quite hungry. The apple was crisp and sweet, a bit more so than the wintry ones back home. He was learning to like this land, at least the fruits of it. And York. They ended up on a bench in the middle of the orchard, York beaming and smiling and North most of the way through his apple.  
“Well,” York let out a content sigh, “I’ve enjoyed myself thoroughly. How’d you like your impromptu slightly-highly-illegal tour through the gardens?”  
“It’s been wonderful, made better by you in fact. I don’t think I would have thought quite so highly of it if I’d gone in the day with a proper escort and ceremony.”  
“Tradition’s not everything.” There’s that roguish grin. “Sometimes you gotta live a little.” York’s hand inched a little closer to North’s and North’s eyebrows arched a little before covering the smaller hand with his own. York was a little startled, to say the least, but his eyes lit up. Brown eyes met feathery blue and he leaned a little closer. North’s hand gripped York’s a little tighter. The gap between their faces narrowed. Eyelids fluttered close. York could feel the knight’s breath against his lips when he was snapped back to reality by the clattering of plate mail and the tramp of steel sabatons on the dirt path. York pulled away and flashed a toothy smile.  
“Quick now, I’ll help you over the wall. He dashed off, North close behind him. He made quick work of the wall once again, laying on his stomach and offering a hand to North after he reached the top. He helped the other up and over and they made it out unscathed, briskly walking a few blocks away from the gardens before collapsing into a fit of bubbly laughter.  
“I..” North wheezed, “I can’t believe this is your way of courting me!”  
York took a moment to gather himself, “Better than...better than something stiff and pompous am I right?”  
“Greatly so. When can we do something like this again?”  
“Are you still in the tournament?”  
“Yeah, I’ve got the joust in three days. How about I meet you somewhere after that?”  
“Hell, I’ll be in the crowd watching out for you.”  
“See you then.” North leans in and presses a kiss to York’s cheek and turns around before York can react, however, he’s just slow enough to see the shocked look on York’s face turn into a grin.

That night, York relaxed in a local tavern by the name of “Katt’s Krystal Kup.” He hated the name but the beer was good and the food was hot. He sat in the center of the bar, telling grand stories of his time as a scout. His most recent story, one about how he was stuck in a lord’s bedroom while he was...busy. The bar patrons were having a jolly old time until in walked the city guard.  
“Mr. Therin,” began the guard captain, gripping his arm, “you’re to come with us.”  
“Yes, sir. No problems here.” He stood and walked towards the door as the four guards moved to flank him. They grabbed his arms and roughly looped a coarse rope about his wrists, tying it tight. York rolled his eyes, so much additional security. He couldn’t pick his way out of a rope. Two of the guards took either arm and marched him down the cobblestones street.  
“You thought we’d never catch you, eh York?” Asked a guard with an arrogant twist.  
“I had my doubts, still havin’ them.”  
“I’d like to see you try to get ou-” He hadn’t even gotten the last word out before York had wriggled out of the ropes binding his wrists and snapped a kick to the guard’s knee on his left, a strike to the other’s kidneys. While they were reacting to the blows and the guards behind them fumbling about, York made to flee. He made it five steps before pain, blinding and white sliced into his leg. He fell, face skidding on the jagged stones. Blood dripped from his lip as he tried to stand. Again, a sharp pain shot up his leg and he stumbled. The short fletchings of a crossbow bolt protruded from the back of his leg. His eyes tracked to the quarrel that fired it. The captain had significantly quicker reflexes than York had given him credit for.  
"Didn't think you'd get away so easily, didja?" sneered the captain, dragging York up by his arms. York returned the sneer with a bloodied lip from the cobbles. "I thought about killing you, really I did, but I'd much rather see you hang." The other guards tramped behind the captain and took York from him, grinning as they did so. "Take him away."  
North heard about York's capture. It was hard not to. The criers were practically screaming in every square how the thief that had haunted the streets was locked behind bars. North felt a little pang in his chest. He wasn't sure why, certainly it wasn't because he was becoming attached. When the crier he walked past announced an execution date, four days from today, some time after the tournament's conclusion, North formed a plan. Or tried to. He wasn't the best at stealth. The only thing he could sneak through was the underbrush of his country. There was a difference between dried leaves and the cold stone of a jail floor. He needed to get him out of there. But how? North decided that no plan would be better than one from the thief himself. He took up his courage and went to pay York a visit.  
The cell was colder than the outside. It would actually be nice in the summer heat if the cell weren't so dank that York was certain that mold would grow in his lungs with each breath he took. Yeah, that's good for the health. He looked over to the narrow window too far out of his reach. Not too bad for an afternoon. It would be a good time to go out to the market and peruse the deals from the local merchants, a good time to pick some pockets, lighten some loads. A sigh pulled from his lips with exasperated boredom. Wow, he didn't know how boring prison would be. He'd been caught before, sure, but then at least, he could get out. Now, with the wound in his leg, he wasn't going anywhere fast. The medic in the prison had done a sloppy job. He'd hang in four days, what was the point in it? He tentatively touched the bandages. It was a bad wound. The bolt had pierced his knee and probably caused some tendon damage. He wasn't moving quickly, only at a slow limp at most. His sigh turned into a groan as he rolled over in his cot. There wasn't anything he could do until he got his food in two hours. His stomach rumbled. Two hours was going to be a long time. The echoing click of boots on the prison floor followed by heavy armored steps alerted him to someone else coming down the hall. That could mean trouble. He swung his legs off the bed, preparing for any fight he would get. Instead, he was shocked to find himself looking into the friendly blue eyes of Jason Artemiy.  
"Have I died and gone to heaven?" He smiled slyly, trying to come up with a reason why he could be here.  
"No, you're supposed to in four days." North's tone took a somber turn. He dismissed the guard who went with him.  
"You've got five minutes," the guard called behind him as he tramped off.  
"I want to know how to- what happened?" North's sentence cut off as he saw the sloppy bandage job on York's leg.  
"Got shot. It happens. Finish your thought." He grumbled. It hurt to stand.  
"I want to know how to get you out of here."  
"I'm touched North, I really am, but I'm afraid I'll hang."  
North shot him a glare, "I'm kidding. I need you to get me something flat and something thin. Alternatively, you could get my picks for me from my house or the guard's keys. That last one might be a bit tricky for you."  
"Where can I find your picks?"  
"In my house, er, inn rooms."  
"Rooms?"  
"Yeah. There's a few. Closest is the Rose on the Pint. Ask Lorenzo about me. Tell him I'm in trouble. He'll give you my keys."  
"Alright, what about your leg?"  
York laughed, "Wow, you actually want to help me. Alright." He leans forward. "I want you to listen closely because I don't have that much time."  
North nodded. "The guards make their rounds regularly every day. Two come by in the morning starting at three A.M. and continue every twenty minutes until eleven P.M. where they slow down to on the hour. There are five ways out of here. The front doors are obvious and guarded, bad idea unless you're prepared for a fight. There's the back way from the kitchen which would be a good idea if you can get there quick enough before they lock the doors.  
I could pick the lock but that would take time. There's two side exits, also guarded but less so. And then there's the sewers, but there's a grate on the end and I'm not that thin. After that, and that's, of course, assuming we don't fuck up and get killed, we'd have to flee the city, hell probably the country. I do have one of the highest bounties on my head in the country after all. You'd probably have to carry me or find some other form of transportation." His eyes lit up. "You're a knight! You have horses!"  
"Yes. But just two. One for me, one for my squire."  
"How good is your squire with keeping quiet?"  
"He'll shut up if I tell him to. It's not exactly chivalrous, but he doesn't exactly care that much about the code as long as I don't get hurt."  
York exhaled shakily, "When are we going then?"  
"Tomorrow."  
"What about the joust."  
"Fuck the joust."  
York blinked up at North. "But you're here for the tourney are you?"  
"Listen to me York," North gripped the bars, "Right now, for whatever reason, I can't stand to let you die."  
York shook his head, "you're hopeless, you know?"  
"Why's that?"  
But the guards were already returning to march him back outside, away from the prisoner. He'd have to get his answer later.  
North found out where that window led to and damn was it a hassle to get to it. York's cell was set all the way behind the palace in the gardens they'd walked in only a few days ago. Scaling that section of the wall was a little more difficult. There weren't too many handholds and the rain had come, making it slippery and slick. He slid the set of picks through, hoping that York would take notice before someone came through the garden.  
The click of his picks hitting the cell floor snapped his attention to the window they fell through. North was gone, but he'd come through on part of his plan. York picked up the lockpicks and stuffed them under a loose stone he'd been fussing with to keep the boredom at bay. It was still early in the day. Hopefully, North would come later in the night.  
The clock outside chimed eleven times. No North. Another few minutes. Nothing. The clock chimed its twelve chimes. Still nothing. Then, thirty minutes into the wee hours, as York was dropping off to sleep, he heard a soft whisper in the lamplit corridors of the prison.  
"Hey, York, let's go."  
Yep, that was North. York sat up and retrieved his picks from the cobble. He limped over to the door and set to work. The cell door squeaked open in a few moments and York only opened it as far as he could slip through.  
"Alright," he breathed, "lead the way."  
To York's utter surprise, North picked him up and slung him over his shoulder. "Well," York let out a soft, indignant huff, "This is embarrassing."  
"Do you want to get out?"  
"Course I do, but I'm a guy North, not a sack of potatoes."  
"Listen, unless you want to get on my back, this is the only way I can carry you and still have the use of my hands."  
"Fair point."  
"Which way to the kitchens?"  
"Head down the hall, hang a left when you can."  
North moved as quietly as he could down the hall and began to turn down the first left he saw when York stopped him.  
"Sorry, sorry, second left."  
North let out a little laugh. He was rather charming but kind of a dick. They made it to the kitchens, through them, and of course, the door was locked.  
"Alright, lemme down. I can open this. Just watch my back."  
North set York down and listened for the armored clatter of guards coming down the halls. Nothing could be heard other than York's fiddling with the lock. The door squeaked open just as North picked up the heavy tread of running sabatons on stone. Without warning, North threw York over his shoulder again and took off running towards where he told Theta, his squire, to wait with the horses. Tossing York up onto a horse and climbing on himself, North checked to make sure Theta mounted up. The poor kid, he looked terrified.  
"Hey," North smiled, "What'd I say before you became my squire?"  
"That you'll always take care of me."  
"That's right, and I don't give a damn if those guards are the law, they won't take you."  
Theta gave a little smile at that.  
"Real touching and all," groaned York as he readjusted himself on the horse, "But can we get going? They'll get horses soon and then we're in trouble."  
"Right," North cracked the reins and both horses bolted off into the night.

"Where're we goin'?" Asked York after an hour of riding.  
"Back to my homeland."  
"The North?"  
"It's called Gavrickson."  
"Your home?"  
"Yeah. At least the city, well, town is."  
"Is it a nice place?"  
"Nice enough."  
"I like it there." Chimed in Theta from behind them. Theta was a young kid, barely old enough to be a squire. He had scruffy, curly, black hair and wide violet-blue eyes. A smattering of freckles dusted across his nose. "It's kind of cold, but you just wear a jacket. The mountains are really pretty and it snows almost every day in the winter and some night the sky lights up in all sorts of colors." Theta was smiling now, and York found the kid's happiness contagious.  
"The auroras," chuckled North, "It's getting to be a good season for them. Maybe we can see some when we get back."  
"Yeah," smiled York, "Sounds like a plan."  
They made camp a little further on. The horses were tethered to trees and a tent set up in a small clearing served as shelter. North bought some food from the inn before he rescued York. It would last them half of the journey to Gavrickson and after that, he'd have to take to hunting. He was hoping that wouldn't be a problem. The game was plentiful this time of year, birds and rabbits mostly. They'd be good for roasting and not too big. A deer would be a bit too much for just the three of them. After they finished eating, and York finished telling his stories (HE must've had dozens and North had only heard a handful), North asked York to prop up his leg so he could take a look at it. He wasn't much of a medic, but he could patch a crossbow wound. He'd seen a few himself and had to patch his sister's in the field.  
"Alright, let's take a look at what damage the prison medics caused." He gently unraveled the sloppy bandage job and winced. The wound was deep and he didn't know if with how York would be using it if it would heal properly. "Wow, okay. That's bad."  
"Just tell it like is Doc, will I ever walk again?"  
"Maybe, just also maybe with a limp."  
York sighed, "great, just what I need. Not like I'm already missing and eye, now I'll have a bum leg."  
"Oh shut it, you'll be fine. It's only a two-week ride to Gavrickson and I'm making sure you don't exert yourself. At worst, you'll have a limp. At best, you'll make a full recovery."  
York let out a soft sigh, leaning his head back onto the rolled up bedroll. "This might hurt. It's pretty strong tonic. Strong enough that it's not meant for drinking but only for cleaning wounds."  
"Oh goody. No big deal, I've had worse in the army."  
"On three," He poised the bottle over York's leg. "One," and let slip a generous amount of tonic. York hissed in pain.  
"Shit North! You said on three!"  
"Better to just get it over with." North gently prodded about the wound, "No signs of infection, that's good."  
"Tried to keep it clean in my cell. Emphasis on tried."  
"I get it, hard to clean a wound when you're in prison."  
North's hands were gentle as he finished cleaning and dressing the wound. He softly hummed as he worked. It was a tavern song, York guessed, by the sound of it.  
"That from...Gavrickson?" He took a moment to remember the name.  
"Yeah, in your language it would be the Maid's Plight and it's..." he flushed a light shade of pink, "It's a bit raunchy."  
York snickered, "Oh really? That's not a surprise."  
North didn't say anything as he tightened the bandages. "Alright. You're good to go. We'll just wait for Theta to get back with the waterskins."  
"You sure the water is safe to drink?"  
"Yeah, there's a stream nearby that comes directly from a glacier. It's as clean as you get without having someone purifying it."  
"I'll take your word for it, but if I get sick, I'm blaming you."  
North merely gave a soft laugh in response. It was a kind laugh, not meant to convey strife or adversity. A sweet laugh, to match North's personality. Shit, York found himself thinking, I'm in WAY too deep, but dammit he's just, he let out a frustrated sigh that was all too audible. North gave him a puzzled look.  
"Ah," shit, shit, shit, "the knee." York offered with a soft smile.  
North nodded, accepting the excuse with seeming amiability.  
"We should get some rest. I'll put out the fire and take first watch."  
"Let me," offered York, "I'm used to staying up late."  
North wasn't having any of it, though. He merely shook his head and told York to lay down, "You need to rest," he said, "your knee and whatnot. Besides, I'd much rather wake you up if I have to and I guarantee that you'll be better off later in the night. Just sleep for now."  
York grumbled something that really could have been anything from a vile curse to an expression of mild irritation but did lay down, rolling out his bedroll from underneath him. Sleep took him faster than he thought it would.  
North woke him up as the sun began to stretch over the horizon. That wasn't his agreed watch.  
"Thought it'd be nice to let you sleep. You can ride, right?"  
"Yeah..." he mumbled, "Why didn't you wake me up sooner?"  
"I can sleep on the horse, you'll probably fall off."  
York rolled his eyes, "ye of little faith," but he got up, taking the arm North offered.  
"Breakfast?" Offered Theta, holding out an apple. York took it with a mumbled, "thank you."  
Theta smiled in return, taking a bite out of his own apple.  
"How long have you been with North?"  
"Oh, North? He took me in after my parents left. He said something about how he was supposed to take me up and even had a letter from my father telling him to. He takes good care of me and teaches me the knight's ways and whatnot."  
"Sounds like you have a good life."  
"Yeah!" Theta grinned, "Where did you meet North?"  
"Oh, well," North looked to York as he explained and ended up butting in.  
"York gave me this after my archery competition." He pulled the white rose from the holy book he kept at his side. York felt a twinge of affection, again. He felt his heart skip for a second then remembered, North is a knight, a chivalrous, holy, righteous, knight. It was wrong for North to be helping him. It went against everything he knew for North to help him, a petty street thief who had run down on his luck, and why was he, helping him.  
"Are you okay?" Asked North. York was so caught up in his brief existential crisis that he hadn't heard the rest of the conversation.  
"Yeah," he let out a breathy sigh, returning to himself. "I'm just fine."  
North tucked the flower back into the book on his saddle and helped York up first, then sat behind him, arms wrapping around his middle. York tried not to admire how strong those arms were, how they felt resting against him and when North's head tipped to lay just in the center of his back he couldn't help but feel like he was more than just a thief to North, to Sir Jason Artemiy, knight of Gavrickson.  
It was around mid-afternoon when North awoke. They stopped for North to take Theta hunting for pheasants and rabbits and other small game to try and have lunch. They tied down the horses and York set about tending to his wounds. North had given him quick instructions on what to do and how to clean it and what warning signs to look out for. That had eaten up, oh, ten minutes. North and Theta weren't back yet. York looked to the horses. North's Clydesdale, named Aveli, regarded him with a rather neutral look. Theta's smaller Falabella, named affectionately and rather originally Bella, didn't regard him at all, merely set about chewing the shrubbery about her. The holy book that North attached to his saddle glinted at him from it's jeweled case. York wondered what religion it was. It didn't look like the traditional books of the Surbus religion practiced back home. Maybe it was one of those forbidden pagan religions that he'd been told as a boy to never ask about. York scoffed at that. Stupid Surbus. Dictating what and what not to worship. York looked at the book again, trying to resist the temptation to look inside. He stood. So much for not giving into temptation. He unlocked the holster on the book and took a look at the cover. It was an ornate geometric design. York wasn't quite sure what it meant until he looked inside. Shockingly, it wasn't anything interesting. It was a holy book in a language that York, even with his fluency in three of the major ones, didn't understand. He noticed that some passages were underlined, or scratched out. Some of them had notes written in the margins in both what he guessed was North's neat, straight, hand as well as a more angular, chaotic script. York had no idea who it could be. Then he heard voices. Theta's and North's. He quickly put the book back and went back to staring absentmindedly at the wound in his leg, now heavily bandaged.  
"How was the hunting trip?" He asked as North laid out a pheasant and a duck.  
"There's a lot of game birds in this area. We would have returned sooner, but I didn't want to leave you alone for too long."  
North prepared the birds in silence as Theta lit a fire to cook up their lunch. York thought about the book, about how he couldn't read it, about the writing in it, about how the case for it was so expensive opposed to everything else North owned. He swallowed hard. It felt so strange asking someone about their holy book, he couldn't be the only one who thought that. He was so curious. He wanted to know. The suspense was chewing through him.  
"Hey, North?" The knight's head turned to look at York, eyebrows arched in a silent question. "What's the book there?" York jerked his thumb in the direction of the book.  
"Oh, that thing." North shook his head, "It's nothing but dead weight now, that and something to prove that I am a pious knight."  
York made a "Go on" gesture, so North continued. "My mother was a nun, well, exiled after she broke her vow of chastity to be with my father. She raised my sister and me in the Kiaran religion and that was her book, passed down to me. My sister and I decided that some of the advice it offered was rather stupid and could use some revision so we put some of our own wisdom in it. Looking back, the religion itself was rather silly and our antics of writing in books wasn't any better, however it's nice to have something from home on long journeys."  
"Oh, well..." York debated whether or not to tell him that he'd been poking about in it.  
"What is it?"  
"I...may...have looked in there?" York hoped he didn't mind too much. In that instance, he was a child caught sticking his hand in the cookie jar. The cat that knocked the priceless vase off of the counter. Oh, god, he hoped North didn't mind.  
Instead of wrath and ire, York received a kind smile.  
"Well, you were bound to get curious. No, I don't mind. It's not that important to me anymore."  
They ate their lunch rather quickly when the birds were done cooking and soon, they were riding again, York behind North, Theta following on Bella behind them. North spoke of Gavrickson, how it got, for starters, very cold.  
"At the next town we stop at, I'm buying you some winter clothes."  
"I can afford them myself." York reached for his coin purse, then realized, it was back in the prison with the rest of his things. He sighed at the loss. He did have a bank account but he could only make withdrawals from the city's branches and the others farther south, not north. Well, he knew he'd have to leave eventually.  
They came up to the next town fairly quickly. North and Theta stabled their horses before North practically dragged York to a tailor's while sending Theta to get them a room at the inn. The tailor looked surprised to see such a strange entourage but composed himself. They emerged from the tailor's with York out of prison rags and into some simple clothes. North also had some thicker, fur lined things stuffed in a bag and slung over his shoulder. They made another trip to the cobbler in town. North needed to get his boots fixed and York needed shoes in general. Leaving with a new pair of boots and a newly repaired pair, they went to the inn, York leaning on North fro support, where Theta sat at a bench, spinning a silver coin on the table. He looked up when he noticed them.  
"Oh, hello! Welcome back! It looks like you were successful." He smiled.  
"Yes, we were indeed. I got something for you." North gave Theta a pair of leather gloves, a small size, a pair that wasn't tailor-made, rather picked up because it should fit. "I know your other gloves were falling apart, so I bought you some other ones."  
Theta grinned as he took them and grinned broader as he slipped them on. "Thank you, North!"  
York and North both took their seats next to Theta and North ordered ale for him and York.  
"I remember this inn. This was my last stop before I reached the city for the tournament." He looked around for a moment. "There's two others I stopped at if that helps put the distance in perspective."  
"Hm?" York looked up over his mug, "Oh, I haven't been keeping track of distance, things just started to blur together after the first night."  
"I don't blame you, it was one hell of a night."  
York snorted into his mug. "Yeah. You know, I was arrested in an inn before you came to snag me and drag me out to your freezing cold home."  
North laughed, a little huff. "Hey, you never really mentioned, how'd you lose the eye?"  
"Long story," York finished off his ale.  
"Tell it. We're not pressed for time."  
"Buy me another drink and then we'll see."  
A shake of his head, but he flagged down a server for another round. Theta leaned in a little closer as York began his tale.  
"A while ago, not too long mind you, I served as a scout in the Ectherian military. This was the same military that called me 'York'. So, I'm on a mission way south in Throndsen. I mean way south. I was almost boiling I was so south. Now, all I was supposed to do was tail a general and every so often send letters back to my commander. It should have been child's play. What I didn't know was that said general was also an aficionado of alchemy. Not the kind alchemy that's used to keep away infection or get you high, the kind that blows shit up. So I go into his files, and mind you, I know all about his pyromania at this point, and I avoid all of the traps that were there the first time. Now," he takes a swig from his mug, "Now is where it gets interesting. This asshole, the general that is, not me, had set another trap in his desk for me. Looking back, I should have checked doubly so, but that is with hindsight. The trap triggers and blows glass and wood shards into my face. It hurt, obviously. Now, the first thing that goes through my head is 'Shit' and I remember that I've got a contact in Throndsen who is an alchemist, one of the more sane ones. I half-blindly stagger out of the general's quarters and down the road to find my contact. I woke him up by banging on his door and yelling, 'Hey Butch, I just blew myself up and require assistance of the alchemical variety.' He practically falls down the stairs and takes one look at me and says 'Now this is quite the pickle you've gotten yourself into.' I say 'No shit Butch, I can't see and shit's burning and cutting and I think I've got enough splinters in my face to make an armoire.' Butch patched me up pretty good other than the scars and, well, lack of eye but hey, I still look good." He shot a wink towards North. North smiled a little in return. Hey, maybe I've got a shot here, York found himself thinking. Maybe it was his third mug of ale talking, but hey, it was worth a shot.  
"Hey North," he began, a little quieter than he wanted to, "there's something, well, several things I want to tell you."  
"Go ahead." North’s face was kind; posture, open, inviting.  
"Well, I feel a little awkward telling you this, but," he took a steadying breath, "well, you're really cute and every time you look at me with your beautiful sky blue eyes or say my name or hell, even talk to me my heart does this little jig and my mind forgets what to do and I just sorta stand slack-jawed like a lovestruck idiot 'cause you're this noble knight and you're supposed to be a paragon of truth and justice and strength and I'm some lowly street thief who got fuckin shot in the leg and-" He's talking too fast, he can't get to his point, the world seems to stop because his words stop as North's lips are on his. Oh, sweet lord above, North's lips are on his. They're soft but cracked from the wilds and he tastes like the ale he was drinking. His eyes are closed, York notices. His eyes are closed and York's aren't. Should he close them? Before he can make a decision, North pulls away. York's mouth hangs open. He realizes this after a few moments and closes it.  
"Do I need to say it?" North smiles, a little cheekily.  
"You love me."  
"I do."  
"I love you."  
"I'd certainly hope so given how you're still reacting."  
"Holy fuck," York is about to say something stupid but North kisses him again.  
"Try not to swear in front of Theta." He smirks. York wasn't aware that North could smirk. Now, oh now he most certainly is very aware.  
“I’m, uh, I’m gonna go see about supplies.” York clears his throat and moves in the direction of the innkeeper.  
Theta looked to North, a gap-toothed smile on his face.  
“I told you he loved you.” Trilled Theta.  
“That you did kiddo and you were right.” North gave his hair an affectionate ruffle. “You think he’ll sleep in the bed with me?”  
Theta laughed, “I think he’s just going to mope out on the doorstep.”  
North watched York pay the innkeeper as she chatted with him. “I dunno, maybe he’ll just sleep on the floor. I’d rather he take the bed, though.”  
“Right, Ms. Avelik over there says she’ll get us our supplies in the morning before we leave. She’ll give us enough to last us until the next inn.” York sits down and downs the rest of his ale. “Night’s still young wanna do something?”  
“Did you have any ideas?”  
“Nah,” York spun his glass on the table, “‘Less you wanna tell more stories.” York’s eyebrows arch and his mouth curling into a grin, “I told a story. Maybe you should tell a story.”  
“I don’t have anything too interesting.”  
“Oh, c’mon North,” York whines, shooting North a rather convincing set of puppy dog eyes.  
“Fine, but on one condition.”  
“Mmhm,” York leaned towards him, a wry smirk that North was all too familiar with slowly growing, “And what’s that?”  
“Gotta give me a kiss when I’m done.” North shot him a coy smile of his own.  
“Long as you don’t put me to sleep, we’ve got a deal. Whenever you’re ready sweetheart.”  
North cocked an eyebrow, silently questioning the use of the word ‘sweetheart’, but looked to the ceiling in thought. “What to tell, what to tell,” soft musings to himself through almost closed lips.  
“What about how you befriended the local crows in Gavrickson?” Theta proposed with a giddy smile.  
North let a little snicker out. “Oh, that’s pretty good. Alright,” North leans forward, “In Gavrickson, we have an abundance of crows. I don’t know why but there’s a bunch of crows. I don’t know if you have too many crows in the inner city but they’re very smart. I’ve seen them recognize the faces of those who’ve wronged them and then attack said offender as soon as they show their face.” A little laugh rumbles in his chest, “It’s sometimes kinda funny. Anyway, I found an injured crow with a broken wing. I didn’t just want to leave her out in the cold so I took her in and nursed her back to health. When she was well enough to fly again, I let her go. Oh, and,” he lowers his voice to an embarrassed murmur, “I named her Cherni.”  
York did a translation that took longer than it should have, “You named her Blacky…? That’s kinda cute.”  
“Be quiet,” North sighed, “I thought it was appropriate.”  
“It’s appropriate and cute.”  
North groaned, “Just let me finish my story.”  
“I was never stopping you.”  
North shot him a glare, but he was smiling. “Anyway, I let her go and didn’t think anything of it until I was with Theta and some asshole got it in his head that he was going to try and mug me. Suddenly, out of the trees came a mass cawing and down swooped a whole flock of crows onto this guy’s head. I didn’t even need to draw a weapon and he ran off. As he left, a little crow hopped up to me and looked up at me and for whatever reason, I thought it looked a lot like Cherni.”  
“Aww,” crooned York, looking at North with big doll eyes. “That’s so cute!”  
“Can it, York. You owe me a kiss.”  
York’s grin almost split his face as he leaned in, gently pecking North’s lips. “You’re still cute.”  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They were up early the next morning, making a quick stop to pick up food from the innkeeper and they were on the road again, York behind North as he rode.  
“How’s the leg?” Asked North, startling York into consciousness.  
“Mh? Oh,” he stretched, yawning, “ ‘S sore, getting better, though.”  
“That’s good to hear. I’ll have to take a look at it when we stop for lunch.”  
York made a noise akin to a sigh and a hum and rested his head against North’s back again.  
“Tired?” North spoke again and York quietly shh’ed him.  
“Tryin’ to sleep here.”  
“That’s a yes.”  
“North,” whined York, “Stop it. Aren’t you supposed to be chivalrous?”  
“To ladies.”  
“That’s not true.”  
“Go back to sleep York.”  
“Maybe if you can be quiet I will.”  
“Fine, fine,” North bubbled, a little smile in his laugh, “I’m quiet.”  
“And stay that way.”  
North turned his head so he could see Theta, who wasn’t that much better than York. The sun wasn’t even up yet, but North had insisted upon them waking early to cover as much ground as possible. He let out a little laugh as York's head gently bumped against him, his hands loosely around North to keep him in place. He didn't sleep in the bed last night, arguing that North took too much of the bed with his 'damn polar bear frame." He slept on the floor. North found him massaging out knots and aches as they prepared to leave. Maybe next time they get a bigger bed. North's thoughts drift back to the stories and confessions and consequent confessions they'd shared last night. He let a little chuckle bubble in his chest. How ironic that he, a paragon of nobility, fall for a thief that he'd helped escape prison no less. He had soft lips for a thief. Maybe he was better than his landing in prison gave the impression of. He certainly dressed well enough the few times he'd seen him before the prison break. In all honesty, North wasn't sure what he was going to do with him when he returned to Gavrickson. Hopefully, he'd consent to tag along with North to keep out of trouble and even if he didn't and wanted to continue his daredevil antics, North had a feeling he'd be okay with that.  
York finally stirred when the sun was high in the sky.  
"Shit..." he mumbled, "Noon...?"  
"Yeah, it's about noon." Replied North from in front of him.  
"Really feelin saddle sore right now."  
"You get used to it as a knight."  
"Or your ass is made of steel." Snickered York.  
North didn't have a response, "we'll stop for lunch soon, alright?"  
"Sounds like a plan." York stretched his arms over his head, still feeling the knots in his back from sleeping on the ground. However, as he did so, his weight shifted and he pitched sideways off of the horse. North was quicker than York's frantic scrabbling at the saddle and pulled him back up, albeit a bit awkwardly from the way he was currently situated.  
"Careful there. If you fall off I don't know how you'll get back with your leg still wounded."  
"Sheer force of will."  
"That's healthy."  
"Hey, I've walked off a cabinet exploding in my face so don't knock it Prince Charming."  
"Oh," North turned around wryly grinning at his saddle mate. "Prince Charming now?"  
"It was that or Lord Artemiy."  
"I'm not a lord."  
"Exactly. You look more like a Prince Charming anyway."  
North cocked a suspicious eyebrow. "Really?"  
"Yeah, you ever looked at yourself?" York gave his side a playful nudge, "All blue eyes and blond hair and a strong jaw and a voice that sounds right out of a fairytale." York leaned against him again, wanting the warmth.  
"Uh, thanks?" A light shade of pink rose to North's pale cheeks.  
"Mmhm, no problem Prince Charming."  
"You're not bad yourself."  
"Haven't we had this conversation before?"  
North huffed at the comment, an amused little noise puffing out from between parted lips. "Dunno. Maybe at the garden?"  
"Where I dragged you on a date and got chased off b the guards 'cause I'm slick like that."  
"Yeah," North beamed, "I thought it was rather exciting."  
"Puh-lease," York rolled his eyes, "You nobility, always thinkin that the criminal life is some thrill ride." That came out harsher than he meant.  
"You look rather well off for a criminal." North didn't seem to take notice, or he didn't care, OR he forgave York in that span of seconds.  
"Well, yeah. I'm that good. The bad ones hang, North."  
"I'm happy you didn't hang before I met you."  
"I'm touched by your kind words. You know just what to say to pluck at my heartstrings, babe," a laugh murmured into his words as he spoke.  
"You know I love you."  
"You said that last night North."  
"I did, didn't I."  
"Yep."  
"Hasn't changed from last night."  
"Neither has mine. Hope it stays this way."  
"Dunno, what bad could happen between a thief and a knight?"  
"You could grow a conscience and have me locked up."  
"I have a conscience, and it likes you."  
"Tell your conscience thanks for putting up with me then."  
"Mmhm, I'll relay the message as soon as possible."  
~~~  
The journey smoothed by with relative ease after that. No one stopped them, no one questioned them in any of the towns they arrived in. It was late at night when North pointed out the orange glow of twin fires blazing in braziers next to a massive wooden door.  
"That's Gavrickson." He said with a hopeful smile on his face.  
"Huh, smaller." Acknowledged York, observing the stone walls and heavy carved doors.  
"It's not a major seaport like where you're from."  
"That's true. Seems nice enough, it's a lot colder."  
"You'll get used to it." This came from North, who had a coat but wasn't wearing it, instead giving it to Theta who looked rather like a snowball bundled up in a coat that swallowed him whole.Their horses' hooves clopped down to the gates and they were greeted by two guards with a rampant green bear on their chests. York recognized it as the crest on North's armor.  
"Good evening to you Sir Artemiy!" The left one called, both straightening to attention at their approach. "I see you've brought back little Theta safe and sound and a newcomer." He eyed York with some suspicion.  
"His name's York, Abram. He's with me. I picked him up down south during the tournament."  
York snorted at the explanation. "Picked up's one word for it." He murmured to himself.  
"Well, welcome back. All's been quiet here. Your sister left for work yesterday. Said she'll be back in a day."  
"She's a mercenary," North said, turning to York. "Must be a quick job, or she's collecting pay."  
"Remind me not to piss her off." York yawned.  
"Alright, you can go in. Your friend need directions?" Asked Abram.  
"No, I'll show him around tomorrow. It's not exactly a short trip, we both need some sleep."  
The guards pulled open the doors and in went the pair.  
North's house wasn't what one would expect of a 'sir'. It was small, built in the slanting style that all of the houses and Gavrickson were. Around back were the stables, now empty. After stabling their horses, North helped York over to the door and unlocked it. His leg was still healing, it would be a bad idea to put too much weight on it.  
"Nice place." Hummed York, leaning heavily on North.  
"Yeah, warm enough, bug enough, couldn't ask for much more."  
"Given that I lived above an inn, I don't feel like I have room to talk."  
"You should sleep."  
"Tell me about it."  
"We don't have a guest room, but you can take South's, she won't mind."  
"Thanks," he yawned, tried to stifle it in his hand, "juss hope you don't mind if I pass out on your shoulder."  
"Go for it, you're not heavy."  
York only mumbled something unintelligible in response, doe brown eyes half-closed. He slowly went limp, unused to riding such distances. North supported him down the hall, eventually just picking him up and setting him in South's bed, a parting kiss pressed to his forehead.  
That morning, York didn't wake until noon. His leg was sore, but he could put some weight on it. He noticed that North had left a makeshift crutch for him by the door.  
"I am sore and smell like horse and that was the best sleep I've had in ages." He said as he hobbled into what he assumed was the kitchen. "Also I smell food. Did you make breakfast?"  
"No," replied North through a mouthful of bread, "bought it down at the market. Just some bread, cheese, and there was a good deal on smoked fish. Though, you'll have to fight Theta for the last of it."  
"I'm good on the smoked fish." He sat down and pulled off a piece of bread from the loaf.  
"As for the horse-smell, there's a river down the way. Clear water, but it's freezing even during this time of year. I don't particularly want your southern blood to freeze." He flashed York a sly grin. "You could also drop by the bathhouse and talk to Ingrid. It's a little warmer."  
York shook his head. "Yeah, I'm not risking frostbite from a damn river. Where's the bath house?"  
"Follow the road down until you see the building with a river on its sign. It'll also have steam escaping from the top of it. You'll need this." He dropped three coins on the table, York didn't know the denomination. "That's the fee for the bathhouse."  
"Thanks, what about you?"  
"I've been up for about four hours so I've already taken care of me. You can ask pretty much anyone for directions if your Northern is good enough. Think you'll be alright with your leg?"  
York huffed. His Northern was passable at best but he thought he could get around, "Yeah, I'll be alright. Thanks, North." He took the coins from the table and left.  
York returned with wet hair, fresh clothes, and looking a little more awake three hours later. It was late in the afternoon now and North was out teaching Theta how to wax a bowstring. York limped over to him, pulled his jacket a little tighter around him.  
"Hey, I'm back." He smiled. North and Theta looked up from the bow, both gave a kind smile.  
"Welcome back. Feeling better?" North stood and walked closer.  
"Yeah. Picked up a snack on the way here, so don't worry about lunch."  
"It'd be a little late for lunch anyway. I've got something planned for tonight."  
"Oh?" York's eyebrows arched up, "What's that?"  
"Sit around and you'll find out. It's supposed to be a clear night tonight. The moon will be full."  
"Sounds beautiful," York remembered just how many stars he saw last night on the way in.  
"Oh, and my sister comes back today so you'll have to sleep somewhere else. My bed's big enough for the both of us if you don't mind."  
"You know at this point I was wondering when we'd sleep in the same bed with as many times as I fell asleep on your back on the way here." Chuckled York, giving North's arm a playful nudge.  
"Well," he looked back to Theta, "Want to learn how to wax a bowstring?"

The night was clear, just as North said it was. South had returned a few hours into the evening. looking road worn and exhausted. She'd taken one look at the two and said only, "I better not wake up to you two fucking." North blushed while York laughed.  
The hillock was the tallest point in the city limits. It was a bit of a climb for York, but North swept him up about a third of the way up the climb, carrying him to the top. They lay there, under the stars, Theta left with South and watched the sky.  
"Just wait," North would say whenever York asked what they were doing. twenty minutes into their stargazing, the sky lit up in brilliant greens and blues painting in broad brushstrokes across the sea of stars. York's jaw dropped, he looked to North, face serene, blue eyes seeming eerily bluer in the lights.  
"What...what is this?" He asked, absolutely dazzled by the swirling lights.  
"The auroras," North responded plainly. "Legend has it that this is where the spirits of great artists go so that they may create beauty even in death. You can only see them this far north."  
"They're beautiful."  
"Yeah." North's voice was soft and he carefully wrapped an arm around York as to not startle him and watched the auroras dance in his eyes.


End file.
